


If i fail, i'll fall apart

by smell_the_roses



Series: Useless Lesbians [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cotton Candy lipgloss, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, F/F, Girl Direction, Humiliation kink, Lesbians and libraries, Oral Sex, PWP, Panties, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Slight Spanking, Subspace, This is what happens when you call in sick from work, and fluff, gender swap, sorta - Freeform, yaaay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:01:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3521612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smell_the_roses/pseuds/smell_the_roses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis’s whole demeanor changes and she looks to be struggling with herself. “Erm, give us a serious moment, Harry Styles. Do you...like this?”</p><p>Harry and Louis do things in the back of a library that are not school-approved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If i fail, i'll fall apart

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very sick and very much a lesbian. This happened because I am mostly a monster of snot right now.
> 
> Also, I'm making my Lesbian PWP stories I wrote today a series, because wtf not? Series title from [this text post](http://i-do-it-for-the-lesbians.tumblr.com/post/71556450363/im-at-work-and-im-about-to-cry-i-dont-want-to).
> 
> Title of this work from Marina and the Diamonds' "Oh No!" -- I'd link it but ya'll know how to google.
> 
> Update: Didn't even realize I forgot to put the actual fic in the series. Anyway, so there'll be a lesbian fic series. Yay!

**1.**

“So I’ve got one hand in this uncooked turkey, a foot caught in Zayn’s rucksack, and all I can do is whisper those Spanish phrases Greg made me learn. You remember those, right? I don’t think the lady particularly liked me mumbling on about prostitution…”

“Niall, what made you think she even knew Spanish?” Harry asks feigning interest.

It’s a Tuesday and both her and Niall are studying in the library. Well, trying to study on Harry’s part. Niall actually came into the library just to distract her because, “Zayn and I are fighting and I don’t understand why she’s upset with me.”

Niall huffs and blows a stray blonde hair away from her face. She always puts it up in a tight bun that gradually dissolves into a mess of a thing because she plays with it constantly. Harry tuts and motions for her to turn around. After she’s fixed Niall’s bun, accepting a slobbery kiss on her temple as gratitude, she divulges her wisdom.

“Zayn is probably upset because you got yourself arrested and refused to let her bail you out,” she says easily, watching a wave of clarification brighten Niall’s blue eyes.

But she pouts. “I don’t want Zayn wasting her money on my petty theft crimes.”

“Go tell her that,” Harry says, effectively ending the conversation when she swats Niall away. Why she suddenly became a relationship guru is beyond her. She’s got three different revisions due by the end of the day and absolutely zero experience in dating.

(Unless porn followed by a rom-com every night counts as experience. If so, Harry’s an expert).

But it’s a Tuesday (this particular Tuesday, to be specific) that Harry’s life goes crumbling down the metaphorically karma drain because Niall runs straight into Louis Tomlinson in her attempt to get to her girlfriend. Louis goes tumbling down and Harry’s out of her seat, running to help Liam Payne’s best friend from the floor. And she almost does help her, until she realizes Louis’s legs are sprawled open and her skirt is not covering anything.

A pair of grey panties really don’t leave much to the imagination.

Niall thumps her on the back of her head with a hand. Hard. “Harry you useless lesbian,” Niall whispers, but the only thing really helping Harry get over herself is Louis pulling the fabric of her skirt back over herself as she scrambles to her own feet.

“That looked like it hurt,” she says breathlessly because she is a complete imbecile.

“It did,” both Niall and Louis confirm.

“Sorry about that,” Niall says, holding the side of her head with her left hand.

Louis waves off her apology and fixes the strap of her satchel on her shoulder. Harry may have been staring at her tanned, thick thighs for the past few moments. Really, uniforms are a blessing.

“I was on my way over to tell you that Zayn’s moping,” Louis says and fixes Harry with a pointed look.

She’s being obvious and it is quite the discovery. Harry was never really the shy type before now, but she finds herself twitching in her boots, cheeks heated. All over the fact that Louis Tomlinson caught her wandering eyes.

The two of them are exchanging words that Harry doesn’t listen to because...well, Louis is speaking with her whole body, hands moving, feet tapping, and chest heaving. Her breasts, in particular, have caught Harry’s attention. They’re bigger than hers, which isn’t that much of an observation, and their standard uniform button-down blouse clings against her torso in general. The buttons at bust level are straining against the fabric.

Harry wants to put the fabric out of its misery.

Before she knows it, Niall is jogging away and Louis is poking her arm.

Harry’s humiliated by herself. “I am so sorry!” she gasps and throws her head into her hands. What has gotten into her.

Louis Tomlinson is a year above her own and two years her elder. She been pining after the loud mouthed, blue-eyed, brunette ever since she stepped foot into this school, honestly. So she’d think she’d be able to control her focus for longer than two minutes. She has the experience.

“Niall’s right,” Louis sighs to her, pulling Harry’s hands away from her face.

She’s close to tears and doesn’t think she’ll ever lose this blush. “Sorry?” she inquires.

Louis rolls her eyes and pulls Harry with her to the back of the library. This is the encyclopedia section and they’re surrounded in a make-shift alcove of books bigger than most school manuals. The bindings are old and they give off their own scent, chalkier and more robust than normal book scents. Harry is too busy getting ready for a scolding she deserves to observe much more.

She most definitely doesn’t expect Louis pushing her by her shoulders back against the shadows of the corner of the section. Least of all, she’s surprised to find that Louis is staring her up and down much like Harry was earlier.

“Harry Styles, younger sister of Gemma Styles and the resident baker,” Louis says in a careful fashion, her eyes seemingly fixated on Harry’s lips.

So.

Yeah, Harry can work with this.

She folds her arms across her chest in a manner she knows will push her breasts up and quirks an eyebrow. “That sounds an awful lot like me,” she teases.

“Is it not you?” Louis asks innocently in a higher voice. It makes Harry’s stomach drop a bit and heart flutter.

“Well,” she lengthens the word as she drops a hand to the top of her own skirt, playing with the tops of the fabric, shortening it with each playful tug. “I do have an older sister named Gemma and I bake…”

Louis raises an unimpressed eyebrow and grabs at Harry’s wrist, stopping the movement of her skirt. The action brings her much closer to Harry. Their lips are so close and Harry really wants a taste at Louis’s lipgloss.

“I think the entirety of Chesire knows you’re a baker by now, Harry. You aren’t too shy about announcing that fact,” Louis says roughly. Her voice sounds so strained.

Harry absolutely melts under her scrutiny. “I love baking, Lou. I love the smell and heat of the oven. It’s so nice, touching the sticky dough,” she opens her legs a bit and emphasizes her next few words, “So wet underneath my fingertips.”

Louis honest to god shivers and Harry feels powerful.

“It’s all I ever think about. Of course everyone knows,” she continues, drunk off the way Louis’s thighs are twitching.

A loud sound of a book being dropped breaks the atmosphere. Louis drops her hold and steps back, eyes wild as she turns to find the source of the noise. Without her attention, Harry’s confidence shrinks considerably.

God, did she just suggest that she fingers dough?

But.

Louis liked it, didn’t she? She didn’t laugh when Harry said those outrageously suggested lines. In fact, she seemed to be turned on by her words going by the flush on her neck. In fact, her eyes are still hooded when she turns back to Harry. She’s more twitchy at this point, head snapping at every noise.

Harry wonders if she’s wet. Wonders if there’s a darkened spot temporarily staining her tight, grey knickers. The thought of it is rather overwhelming. Harry’s been wet for a while, but now she’s focused on the slick pooling in her own panties. God, she wants to touch herself. She has to fold her hands behind her back to keep from doing just that.

Louis turns and tilts her head when she notices the change of position. “Alright?” she asks, she seems genuinely worried. “I don’t think anyone’s caught us,” she adds. She sounds unsure.

God, Harry didn’t even think much about that. She’s practically dripping on the floor over the thought of Louis, but knowing anyone could turn the corner and see her obvious arousal makes her clitoris pulse. Her resolve to not touch herself is breaking.

“You’re sweating,” Louis comments. She raises her right hand and pushes a curl of Harry’s hair off her forehead.

Harry whimpers. It’s a turning point.

Louis’s whole demeanor changes and she looks to be struggling with herself. “Erm, give us a serious moment, Harry Styles. Do you...like this?”

Harry struggles to release a breath of air. She’s so embarrassed, she feels faint with it. What does Louis mean by ‘this’? Them flirting indirectly? The apparent lack of personal space? The fact that if either one of them is a fraction too loud, someone might find them?

She nods her head feeling absolutely dizzy. Yes, yes to everything they’ve been doing since Louis fell.

Louis looks absolutely enthralled by the clarification. “Can I?” she asks.

Harry doesn’t know what she’s asking. Harry doesn’t even remember what they were talking about just five minutes ago. She’s feeling lost in her own head and it scares her how much she loves it. Louis could be asking to murder someone and Harry wouldn’t have it in herself to focus enough to understand.

And then it happens.

Louis reaches underneath her skirt and touches her. Just a finger swiping across her embarrassingly wet knickers, barely a graze at the heated skin underneath them.

It breaks Harry.

She gasps and crashes forward, the lack of oxygen finally affecting her. She clutches at the front of Louis’s blouse, panting, hissing, and generally quivering. She becomes even more humiliated just by the fact that she’s even wetter, feeling the slick edge at the sides of her panties.

Ringing fills her ears, her tears making it completely impossible to see anything and Harry forgets where she is. She forgets nearly everything other than the fact that she needs to touch herself and she’s holding onto Louis Tomlinson.

“Baby,” a voice coos. Hands tilt Harry’s face up and a breath hits her red, red face. “What’s wrong?”

What a horrible question, the part of Harry’s brain that is somewhat comprehensive decides this fact. Louis knows. She felt it. Harry doesn’t justify the question with an answer, but a choke of a humiliated sob comes out.

Louis tuts and wipes the tears and snot that have gathered on Harry’s face. She whispers reassurances on deaf ears as Harry continues to cry herself silly. The thought that Louis was ever aroused by her pathetic self is buried so deep in her mind.

“Oh baby.” A sigh and Louis is pushing Harry away.

No.

No this is worse than anything that’s ever happened to Harry, she’s certain of that fact and heaves another, drier sob.

But Louis doesn’t go anywhere. In fact, she guides Harry so that she’s the one in the shadows, back pressed against the wall, and pulls the younger girl in. Effectively tucking the gangly limbs underneath her chin and against her chest.

She’s wrapped in Louis’s arms and feels faint kisses to the top of her head, eventually she calms down enough so that she’s just hiccuping.

“Beautiful,” Louis whispers.

Harry doesn’t believe it and shakes her head. Suddenly aware of the fact that she’s ruining Louis’s blouse, Harry stumbles a step back, apologies on the tip of her tongue.

Louis doesn’t let her. She pulls Harry back by her shoulders and places firm kisses all over her face. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” she explains between kisses, forcing Harry to believe her. “Making such a mess of yourself over me, baby.”

Her saying it like that...like it’s a good thing and not completely pathetic makes Harry preen. Just a bit. Enough that Louis notices.

“Gorgeous,” Louis states firmly and grabs one of Harry’s hands. The one not wiping at her snotty nose. “It’s so lovely, baby. I wish you understood that,” she’s muttering more to herself when she does it.

Louis Tomlinson moves Harry’s hand so that it’s underneath her own skirt and touching herself.

Harry never thought she’d ever be surprised or even shocked by her own pussy. But she is now. She’s feeling her own wetness on her fingertips while Louis fills her head with compliments and holds her hand there.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” she demands softly and pushes Harry’s hand upwards in a firm matter.

The pressure against her clit is like a bucket of cold water. She’s reawakened to the situation at hand, literally.

Harry nods her confirmation.

Louis hums her content. “So wet. My fingers are going to be feeling it for hours, maybe even days.”

She moves Harry’s hand a bit. Her whole body jumps at the familiar sensation. “So messy, so wet, _fuck_.”

Harry cries out when Louis moves her hand again, only she doesn’t stop moving her hand. She’s rubs up and down the entirety of her soaked panties, whining each time her fingers come into contact with her own clit.

It’s not enough and yet it’s too much. More tears grace her eyes. Her thighs are clenching and unclenching around hers and Louis’s arms and Harry has to keep herself up by placing a hand on the wall next to Louis’s head.

“Was it the book that got you like this, hm?” Louis whispers. “Thought someone caught you talking dirty to me, baby?”

She moves Harry’s hand even faster, but pulls back on it so there’s less pressure. That’s unacceptable to Harry and she moves her hand to push hard on herself. She wants to come. Louis sighs and pulls Harry’s hand out from underneath her skirt altogether. The smell of her hits the both of them, clinging to both of their hands.

“Bad girl.”

Louis’s eyes are blown and Harry just notices how sweaty and red she is, but a firm slap to her arse draws her attention elsewhere. She gasps at the sensation and feels a familiar wave of humiliation when her thighs start to shake.

Louis sounds so disappointed. “I just wanted you to feel how gorgeous you are, baby. You made it all dirty.”

Dirty. Harry doesn’t want Louis thinking she’s dirty. “‘M not dirty, Lou. I’m so sorry. Please.”

She looks surprised that Harry spoke at all. “I’m not sure if I believe you’re sorry.”

“Please,” Harry begs again, more desperate. To her utter shock, Louis breathes out a harsh breath and rubs her own thighs together in a quick fashion. She would have missed it if she wasn’t too embarrassed to look Louis in the eye.

Harry is struck with the thought of her own selfishness. Begging to take care of only herself in such a dirty fashion earlier. “Let me take care of you,” the words slip out of her mouth as soon as she thinks them.

Louis freezes and Harry looks up and stares right into Louis’s eyes, finally. Louis stares right back at her for a bit before answering. “I don’t know if I want that, baby. You were so eager to please yourself earlier.”

Harry is embarrassed and drops her gaze. She pulls on the bottom of Louis’s blouse for something to do with her shaky hands and feels Louis shudder at it. They’ve been holding onto each other for a while, so close that it surprises Harry that such a simple gesture brings about a reaction. Intrigued, she drops her hands to make the same, pulling action at the loose fabric of Louis’s skirt.

Louis grabs and clutches Harry’s hands in her own. “Eager,” she comments, dropping Harry’s hands and tilting her head up. She searches a bit and hums in content, placing a peck of a kiss right on Harry’s mouth.

As soon as that’s done, she pulls Harry in entirely, their chests lining up together so that she can reach and whisper, “I know you saw me earlier when I was on the ground. My skirt flew up and I know such a greedy little girl would sneak peeks. Did you sneak a peek at me, Harry?”

God, Harry confessed to it at once, remember the way Louis’s legs were so open. “Yes.”

A grunt of disapproval makes Harry want to take it all back, she struggles to pull away from the embrace until Louis inquires, “Do you want to touch me, baby?”

“Yes,” Harry cries out at once, all her senses fill with a wanting. A wanting to feel Louis like Louis made her feel herself. She wants her to feel so good.

“Okay baby.” Louis pushes Harry away just a breath away and taps her on her nose. “Serious moment again. If you want us to stop say ‘dick’, okay?”

Green meet blue and Harry is so confused. Why would she ever want to stop? “Please don’t stop,” she whines unthinkingly.

Louis coos fondly. “We aren’t, but if you ever need us to, what do you say?”

The thing is is that Harry’s been feeling herself come in and out of focus for a while now. The word Louis used earlier is lost in her mind and she’s disappointed in herself for it, but Louis doesn’t look at all surprised.

“Say ‘dick’, Harry.”

“Dick.”

Louis kisses her temple as a reward. “Remember it and use it if you feel uncomfortable. Now, strip for me, baby.”

Harry forces herself to remember that word for Louis’s sake so much so she nearly misses the end of that. Nearly. She’s so surprised she yelps and Louis grabs her by her chin, slapping a hand on her mouth. They stare at each other as they listen for anyone else curious enough to look after the noise Harry so stupidly let herself make.

No one does and Louis taps her nose as an apology.

Harry doesn’t want to remove her own clothes, she wants Louis to remove hers and she voices this thought out loud when Louis takes her hand off her mouth.

“Naughty,” Louis says with a light tap on Harry’s arse. A faint reminder of earlier. However, Louis nods. “Okay, take my clothes off.”

Harry is more than eager to, fumbling at the buttons of her shirt and purring at the sight of Louis’s bare skin. She’s wearing a tanned bra underneath her blouse. Harry touches one of Louis’s clothed nipples and feels it harden underneath her hand.

Fuck.

She takes that whole breast in her hand and massages it while sneaking a hand behind Louis to unclasp the bra. Her naked breasts are gorgeous, the nipples already hardening at the draft.

“You were staring at them earlier,” Louis comments. She’s breathing heavily, nostrils flared and cheeks a brilliant red.

Harry’s not even a little embarrassed this time when she confirms yet another statement. In fact, she bends down to press her face right on the sweaty skin against her sternum. She presses a kiss there and turns her face to press a kiss on the inner side of one of Louis’s breasts.

She can hear her heart pound.

“I know of another place you were staring,” she continues in a calm voice, unlike the erratic beats in her chest..

That comment has Harry pulling away and pulling at Louis’s skirt quickly, watching it fall to the floor before gently touching at her clothed hip. The grey fabric is stretching obscenely on her flesh.

Suddenly, Harry’s chin is being raised a third time and Louis actually looks nervous. “Baby you need to stay quiet, okay? Promise me?”

She nods her promise and Louis is sighing in approval, pulling Harry in and pressing their lips together.

Harry has been wanting to kiss Louis for ages. It’s something she thought over more than she’s willing to admit especially during that time when her mum started dating again, Gemma had gone off to uni, and Harry was lonely. Suddenly it’s happening, sticky lipgloss and strawberry lipstick, and it’s nearly perfect.

Only Harry’s wound up too much to really appreciate it. She pulls away, stomach dropping at Louis’s confused and slightly hurt expression. “I didn’t think people actually wore cotton candy lipgloss,” she jokes flippantly before bending down and pressing reverent kisses against Louis’s shaking shoulders.

“It’s my sister’s,” Louis breaths in confession. “They got it for me for my birthday, ah, do that again.”

Harry smiles against Louis’s collarbones and presses her tongue at the junction between the bones. And circles her tongue slowly, listening to the way Louis’s breath catches in surprise.

“Daisy likes the smell.”

Humming, Harry drops her kisses lowers. Finds out Louis really likes when she suckles a bite at the fleshy bits of her breasts.

“Phoebe was the probably the one that bought the bottle. She’s good at saving her money.”

She also drops her hands lower from Louis’s hips. Her thighs are shaking, Harry is captivated by it.

Louis is less so. Her voice is strained and sounds like Gemma’s when she caught Harry wearing her favourite scarf. “They were so excited to give it to me. They packaged the tube in this sparkly, pink tissue paper. Daisy jumped on my bed the morning of and wouldn’t get off until Phoebe handed it to me. It’s my favourite now would you stop teasing me and get on your knees?”

The demand is said in the commanding voice and followed with a push at Harry’s shoulders. Harry goes willingly to her knees, having the foresight enough to use Louis’s tossed blouse to cushion her knees against the hardwood flooring. Eye-level with Louis’s crotch is a position she’s more than willing to be in and she’s close enough to smell just how turned on Louis really is. The buzzing feeling is back in her head, she feels drunk over it.

Louis is the one to pull off the last of her clothes. She grabs at the elastic and pushes down with no question, kicking the grey fabric the rest of the way down her legs. Harry surprises herself by touching the trail of soft, curly hair at Louis’s pelvis. She’s trimmed, not waxed.

Harry loves it.

“Touch yourself,” Louis commands and tuts when Harry moves to take her skirt off. “Not like that. Lift up your skirt, hand over knickers, and rub.” She touches the tip of her ballet flats at Harry’s knees until she opens them a bit revealing more for Louis to watch.

Knees open, skirt up, Harry hisses at the contact of her fingers against her clothed clitoris.

“That purple looks good with your skin colour,” Louis comments as she opens her own legs and trails one finger at the lips of her vagina. She hums a bit more and sighs. “Okay, you can touch me now, baby.”

Harry keeps her fingers rubbing, leans forward and presses a peck of a kiss right on Louis’s hand. She moves it away and Harry catches the wet finger in her mouth and sucks. She whines when it’s taken away and gasps when her lips meet the wet folds of Louis moments later. She tongues softly at the folds and pushes deeper at the tip of the fold, her licking becomes shorter and slower at the soft skin she finds there. Here, Louis doesn’t taste like cotton candy. She tastes like a woman. A heady, salty taste with a slight sweet addition that is one-hundred percent her.

She pulls back a bit to press three firm kisses right at her clitoris, but Harry’s mind is full of white noise. She doesn’t notice much more than the way her lips and tongues are moving, even then she feels sloppy in her movements. Mildly embarrassed in the way her mouth feels too heavy to move much.

Harry head feels light--body gone for a while now, when Louis shudders around her face, thighs closing rough when she rides it out. Louis pulls Harry up by her armpits, whispering compliments and pressing hard kisses all over.

Harry comes back in Louis’s naked arms, sleepy and happy.

“Lou?”

“Here, baby. You did so well,” Louis whispers against her temple. Harry realizes her hand is running up and down her back in a soothing, slow movement. Wonders how long it’s been doing that.

Content with all of this, she nuzzles her nose more into Louis’s neck and breaths.

“I need to get dressed, baby,” Louis warns, hand stopping.

“Nooo,” Harry whines at once for two reasons. Naked Louis is the best thing to grace this planet and Harry has never felt better in her life. So, no that is such a stupid plan.

But Louis is relentless in the whole clothing goal, so Harry watches and grumbles as she dresses herself. Stopping when they both notice the wrinkled mess that is her blouse. Louis breaks the awkward silence with a surprised burst of laughter, Harry joining easily.

Liam Payne finds them like that and is more than a little scandalised. “Louis, it smells like sex,” she gasps.

That has both of them laughing even harder.

Harry tries to stand up and realizes that her inner thighs are most definitely soaked in her own drying come and starts another round of laughing.

“I’ll need your number, by the way,” Louis says once they’re banned from the library forever (would be suspended from campus entirely if it was anyone other than Liam to catch them).

Harry is too busy watching the way Louis’s skirt swishes around her arse to hear it.

Louis groans. “Oh my god, Harry, you useless lesbian.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let's pretend that wasn't shit because I feel like shit (Don't put down sick girls' egos). Thaaaannnnkkkkssss.


End file.
